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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

di^It. ©up^rig^ !f 0. 

.Shelf .t_(3_.q^T\ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



POEMS : 



■ KYi 



JAMES AVIS Hartley, a. b. 



imsK^ 



CHARLOTTESVILLE, VA.: 
The JkffeHsonian Book and Joi; Printing Opt'idk; 

I8S2. ' 



Q (. 



Entered according to Act of Congress in the Year 1882 

BY JAMES AVIS BARTLEY. 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, 

Ar Washington, D. C. 




-PREFil 



H 



Mmiy of the Poems here published have 
appeared in Magazines and Nezvspapers ; the 
remainder have not before reached the public 
eye. 

J. A. B. 




o 



MY HOME. 

It is a woodland scene, a C[uict s[^ot. 

Ever the russet hills are strangcl)' still. 

Save when the crow Hies, cawin*;^ noisil)-. 

At times. throuL;h the L,n-a\- air, 'twixt bluffs, sonic bare, 

But others bearing birch, and oak. and untierwootl, 

Is seen Mine Run, a stream now known io fanK\ 

Westward there gleams a peaceful, silvery l.ike. 

A waterfall below, whose \-arying cadence soothes 

The lonely, listening ear at midnight's hour. 

Hard by, the gray primeval forest stands 

Where countless groups of evergreens look ga\', 

The emblems of God's love that never dies. 

Amid a grove of youthful forest oaks. 

just on the line dividing wood from field 

The mansion, painted white, is parth' seen, 

Built on the rounded summit of the hill. 

Not far off rise the Southwest mountains, famed 

For fertile soil, pure breezes, men robust, 

And women of enchanting loveliness. 

Beyond and bearing on his head the heavens 

Old Blue Ridge towers in e\erlasting strength. 

Looking complacent on the subject vales. 

O, home ! A sound with magic influence rife ! 
What human breast can ever be so cold. 
So lost to all the memories of love 
And fond domestic ties, as not to thrill 



Selection of Poems. 

Hearing the uttered melody of home ? 
It is a tie not to be broken easily, 
E'en when that home is 'neath a tyrant's power ; 
But when fair Freedom, with her God-like glance, 
Watches the roof-tree reared beneath her own, 
The hero gives his life, but not his home. 
Ah ! though I wander, borne by mystic fate 
Through other lands, how oft shall memory paint 
The dearer scenes of my Virginia home ! 
I'll hope, at length my hapless wandering o'er. 
To come and yield my breath back gently here, 
To the \\'\\6l breeze that breathes its low sweet hymn 
Among the oak-tree tops to-day, and mix 
My mouldering form with this beloved earth. 
(jRKKNWooii, (Jrange Count/, Va. 



GRANDFATHERS OAK. 

When my grandfather chose this spot 

Whereon his house to rear, 
The virgin wood he felled — but not 

The forest monarch here. 

He spared the tree to give him shade 
When summer suns grew fierce. 

Nor through the veil the branches made 
The ardent beams could pierce. 

For fast it spread with vigor good 

Its foliage green and wide, 
And in the rural landscape stood 

Its simple owner's pride. 



Sc/cciio/i of Poems. 

The redbreasts found the covert deep 
And built their mud-nests there, 

Their callow young from harm to keep 
Till these could wing the air. 

Half tame the little strangers grew, 

So gentle was his mood ; 
Oft lighted in his furrows new 

And hopped in search of food. 

Ceaselessly poured from sweet love's spring 

Their joyous, thrilling lays 
Which to the day new beams could bring 

Through sunny summer days. 

And here full many a sultr\- noon 

He rested from his toil 
And feasted zestful, nor too soon, 

Upon his labor's spoil. 

He saw the offspring kindly lent 

To crown his marriage vows. 
In day long, thoughtless merriment 

Disport beneath these boughs. 

An honest, kindly Christian man 

So passed his peaceful days 
Of life on earth his fated span. 

Unknown the worldling's ways. 

With nature and with simple joys 

His mind was satisfied, 
Till when the taste of pleasure cloys 

In weakening age he died. 



Schrtion of Pocvis. 

And I who come thus late to muse 

Here under his old tree 
Whose bowers their coolness still diffuse, 

Unfelt the stern decree, 

Breathe in untutored strains this prayer 
Which may not be unheard, — 

Since by His every creature's care 
The heart Divine is stirred, — 

May this huge king yet mightier grow, 

Deferred the fatal stroke, 
Till I, too, sleep yon mounds below, 

Grandfather's long lived oak ! 



CHILDHOOD AND AGE. 

Friend Alf , do you remember well 
Those long past, happy hours 

When we roved, boys together blest. 
Among these rustic bowers ? 

Then robin redbreast boldly sat 
Upon his blooming thorn, 

And sang with all his might for joy 
The fresh and dewy morn. 

When we looked upward to the sky 
'Twas calmly, purely blue, 

And earth itself seemed holier 
Where blue-eyed violets grew. 



Selection of Poems. 

When we looked on each other's brows 
We saw the bloom of youth, 

And in each other's eyes there shone 
The Heaven-born light of truth. 

Alas ! those years have vanished now 
And time has changed the scene, 

No more we meet as joyous boys 
Upon the village green. 

We've wandered far and wearil}', 

And feel how vain it is — 
That wish to hold the flight of time 

And youth's -short, fleeting bliss. 

And Alf, I ofttimes wonder e'en 

If I was e'er a boy 
Like those I see around to-day 

In careless play and joy. 

Such woe has crossed my earthly path 
And I have grown so stern, 

And with such strange ambition, too, 
My heart has known to burn. 

And yet, whene'er returning so 
From toils for empty fame, 

I wander near these rustic bowers. 
To me they are the same~ 

^Remembering not ambition's goal, 
Nor disappointment's pain, 
For you and I arc happy boys, 
And met in sport again. 



to Selection of Poems. 

And robin redbreast shrilly sings 

As aye of yore he sang, 
Where copses, groves, and meadows pied 

With sweetest music rang. 

I see upon your cheeks and brow 

The blooming tint of youth, 
I look into your beaming eyes 

And read the love of truth. 

Yes, Alf , do you remember yet. 

As still I fondly do, 
These hallowed bowers where we were blest 

When life was fresh and new ? 

'Tis true, our youth is Heaven's love 

Abiding with us yet. 
Nor fame, nor joy, nor sorrow's power, 

Can teach us to forget. 

And when our age is by-gone too 

W^ith all its wintry pain. 
In lands where fadeless springtimes flush 

We shall be boys again. 



Selection of Poems. tl 

TO THE QUEEN OF NIGHT 

Fair orb, that floatest through'the peaceful sky, 
I walk beneath thy beams with footsteps slow, 

And watch thy silvery splendor grow on high. 
And stream upon the sleeping plains below. 

Glad I escape from the fierce glare of day 

To revel in thy mild and friendly beams. 
Their spells the fever of my heart allay, 

Thou beauteous moon, resplendent queen of night. 

From hearts close-locked and fortune's churlish frown. 
From jostling in the marts where mammon reigns, 

I gladly fly to where thou lookest down 
With heavenly pity on poor mortals' pains. 

Oh ! teach me, friendly queen ! some potent art 
To bkmt the edges of the thrusts of day. 

That still transfix my yet untutored heart. 

While all my life shall soon have passed away. 

Canst thou not into human bosoms shed 

The meekness of thy pure and soothing light ? 

Or shalt thou shine unheeded still o'erhead. 

While souls below disdain thy teaching bright ? 

At least be mine, thy radiance, mild and sweet, 
That softens all the rugged features here. 

Guiding with beams the weary pilgrim feet. 
And bringing heaven itself divinely near ! 



12 Selection of Poems. 

THE STKILLV. 

" Stream, dark or clear, th\' voice, 
Seems one of sadness still ; 

Must joy, when all rejoice, 
Thy breast not fill ? 

The skies have sunny calms, 
The birds are on their bo^vers, 

On downs the frisking" lambs. 
The bees on flowers. 

Thou yet art murmuring — 
Apart from joy alone : 

Hadst bliss in other spring, 
But now unknown ?" 

" First from its flinty cleft 
A tiny rill welleel forth, 

And soon its cradle left 
To bless the earth. 

True in its breast it kept 
The brightness of a star. 

Till once a storm-wind swei)t 
Its fate to mar. 

Against its rugged shores 
The whirling flood was tost 

Till mid their rocky gores 
The star was lost. 

Or dark, or clear, through meads 
I course a rill, or river — 

My soul that glory heeds 
And niurmurs ever." 



Selection of Poems. 
THE BLUE-BIRD. 

This morn when warmer winds ha\'e blown 

From fadeless tropic sprini^s, 
The blue-bird from a leafless elm 

His sont^ exulting sings. 

The sun shines bright and warm upon 

The open main and earth, 
The bird, b)' instinct, knows the time 

And pours his joyful mirth. 

My lightened heart grows cheery too, 
Now that the gloom hath flown. 

And soon unnumbered matchless jo)-s 
The opening \'ear will crown. 



TO A VERY YOUXG LADY. 

Sunlight, golden, mellow, streameth. 
All about the roads and meadows, 
All about the hills and woodland. 
All about the lakes and rivers ; 
And the eye discerns no shadow, 
Not a speck of darkening shadow, 
From the zenith to the horizon. 
On each breeze's silken pinions, 
Myriad flowers are ever sending 
Loads of sweetness every moment — ' 
Scents of violet, rose and lilac — 
Flox and frail anemone — 
Otlorous leaves and fragrant petals — - 



/<^ Selection of Poems. 

Till they steep the languid senses. 
Bees and beetles, winging gaily, 
Make their ceaseless hum so soothing, 
And out from the groves and orchards 
From the lofty limes and lindens, 
And the broad, majestic oak trees. 
And the tangled copse's covert — 
All arrayed in dresses vernal. 
With their white, or pale-red fringes. 
And their studs of gold and yellow, 
Over all the laughing landscape, 
Far as waves of sound may follbw, 
Swell a myriad varied measures, 
With a myriad varied pitches ; 
Loud and soft, in wide confusion, 
All in one divine agreement — 
Songs of nature's sweetest poets. 
Birds, that followed man from Eden, 
Ever singing round him gladly, 
With a sweetness in their voices, 
Which still mocked at toil and sorrow, 
Ah ! as morning waneth slowly. 
And the noon but gives a deeper, 
Calmer radiance to the picture. 
Till the g-olden king is hastening 
Downward to the azure hill-tops. 
Shall no black and wailing tempest 
Swallow up the mellow sunshine — 
Hush the birds, the jo)'Ous poets, 
Still the soothing insect music — 
Sweep the blossoms from the branches^ 
And the fair, sweet flowers, snatch them 
From their stalks and scatter widely. 
O'er the darkened fields and orchards, 
O'er the ruined, moaning woodlands ? 



Selection of Poems. ij 

God permit no ominous tempest, 
Black with hate, and red with fury. 
Frightful with its roaring thunder. 
E'er to swallow up the sunshine. 
E'er to hush this Eden music, 
E'er to waste these breathing odors. 
May the day be all as tranquil, 
Till as evening opes the portals, 
Where the angels pass so often — 
Fiery chariots issue quickly, 
And come dowai to bear thy beauty, 
To a scene of lasting pleasure, 
To th)' final home in Heaven. 



HORTATORY: 

O ! fellow-travellers who toil 

And sweat along life's dusty highway ; 

Beneath the overarching shade 

Of fountains wooing us to stay. 

Let us not rest too long, too long ; 

Our Leader, gone before, awaiteth us. 

O ! brother laborers with me 

In fields now white unto the harxest. 

In pleasant places, dim and cool. 

Let not our noontide sleep so sweet 

Protracted last till evening's hour, 

Our Lord may come and find his work not done. 



i6 Selection of Poems. 

O ! mariners with whom I sail 

To reach a far and famous Haven, 

Let us keep strictest discipHne, 

Lest by some culpable neglect, 

We lose the vantage of our course, 

And seek to moor our ship too late, too late. 

O, God ! we are so weak, so prone 

To idleness more than to labor, 

To exalt the pleasures of the Means 

Over the riches of the End, 

Help us ! Ah ! in our foolishness 

We all must die without Thy pitying grace. 



TO FLORENCE. 

I shall not seek in polished lines 

To praise the beauty of your brow, 
The roseate light of youth that shines 

So brightly o'er your features now. 
Mine is a higher, holier aim, 

A far more hallowed wish is mine, 
Than thus to give to fleeting fame 

The charms that soon must know decline 
It is to point you to that Power 

Whose words can bid that beauty stay, 
Growing more radiant hour by hour 

Where ceaseless ages roll away. 



Scli'cfkvi of Poems. I J 

THE OLD SCHOOL-HOUSE. 

I watch the plowman drive his team 

Over the hillside to and fro ; 
He sees in rapt, prophetic dream 

His future riches greenl}' grow. 

He'carols oft a melod\' 

Responsive to the robin's la)', 
Building his mud-walled nest hard b)' 

In the white-oak beside the way. 

I sit within the woodland shade 

And musing eye the rustic scene ; 
Soon these things from m}- vision fade 

The past is here in old-time sheen. 

Beneath the white-oak stands a cot, 

And through its one wide open door 
Gay laughing children seek the spot 

Of welcome play when work is o'er. 

Glad boys and girls ! what sports they ply 

About the grounds, in tireless mirth, 
How loving cur\'es the bright blue sky 

Above the happiest scene on earth. 

O ! childhood guiltless yet of toils 

By which to catch confiding Truth, 
Of stolen wealth and blood-stained spoils, 

Of hardened Hate that mocks at ruth : 

How often do we turn to thee 

As on the road of life we move, 
And sighing, still in memor)- see 

Those early years of joy and love : 



i8 Sc/cctioii of Poems. 

And feel, as keen compunction wounds 

The heart that yearns for childhood's bliss, 

How the good S;' /ior's saying sounds. 
" Of such the Heavenlj' Kingdom is ! " 



THE STORM AXD THE RALXTOW. 

The sun had shone down with a fierceness supreme, 
Had wilted the flowers and drunk up the stream ; 
The herd and the warblers had sought the retreat 
V'^here the birch and the willow o'er cool waters meet. 

But later, when day was descending the West 
A dark cloud arose with a mountain-like crest. 
And moved toward the East with a deepening frown, 
With thunder and flash till the rain-flood rushed down. 

! dread was that hour and terrific the scene. 
The husbandman saw it. and blanched was his mien ; 
I'he mariner cried, " Save me, or soon I shall sink, 
God keep the strong cable ; yes, guard every link." 

l)Ut, lo !■ in a moment a change had been wrought. 
The wild rushing wind to a pause had been brought, 
And far to the East a fair rainbow appeared, 
Whose radiance our late troubled spirits now cheered, 

It seemed a blest seraph just come from above. 
To smile on the gloom in the sweetness of love, 
So sudden, so strange, so celestial its light, 
The hour one of lieavcn's. surprising our sight* 



Sr/iTtioii of Poems. tg 

Oh ! thus when wild sorrow o'erwhehns the crushed soul, 

And tlie thunders of venL^eance so fearfully roll, 

The blest seraph Mercy shall hasten to shed 

The bright smile of peace where the tempest hath sped. 



LINES. 

When fails the da)' along the Western sk)'. 

And amorous zephj-rs round lush roses sigh, 

The love-sick nightingale begins his song 

To woo his dear the myrtle-boughs among. 

He sings through all the night's still star-lit hours. 

Till dawn looks forth again from her high towers. 

So when the world's great glory fires are done. 
The vulgar haunts of sordid gain I shun ; 
Behind night's screen I touch the echoing strings 
To thee, whose image in my memory .springs. 
Most and best loved ; nor may the music cease 
Till wearied nature brings to thought release. 

Yet in enraptured dreams what visions beam 
Before me, thrilling with their chastened gleam. 
What harmonies from lips attuned to love 
Seem floating from below to stars above. 
Delights that me awake to bless did shine 
With deeper spell do make sweet sleep divine, 



ScifCfioU of I\)C!!IS. 

NETTIE GAY. 

Far in flowery meadows 

Of eternal Spring, 
'Neath tlie lime-tree's shadows, 

Where the bird's bri;jht win;'- 
Glances on the vision, 

And his song is sweet, 
With a bliss Tdysian, 

In its joy complete, 

I in May went wooing 

Beauteous Nettie Ga\', 
Dreaming, never ru;ng^ 

In that glad high da}-. 
Still fond Memory loves it, 

Now in darker years, 
When despair reproves it, 

Causing bitter tears. 

In vast peaceful meadows 

Of immortal light 
Where no envious shadows 

Dim the day's delight. 
Where the angels bending 

Low their duteous heads, 
Are their tense chords blending. 

Where their Monarch treads, 

Nettie, love, is singing, 

Herself a seraph now. 
Death nor sickness flinging 

Darkness on her brow. 
And my heart revealing 

All its early love. 
Kens a heaven stealing 

To it from above. 



Selection of I\>C!i!S. 2i 

When the day is over 

And the evening conic 
Joining maid and lover 
. In the happy home — 
In the glorious morning 

That shall soeui appear 
Free from sorrow's scorning, 

Ever, ever near, 

I shall see her smiling 

As she won my heart, 
All my grief beguiling 

Wy that guileless art : 
I shall find the treasures 

Of God's changeless love 
Where all heavenly pleasures 

In their circle move. 



''DO A LITTLE EVERY DAY." 

Alaniii I.iUlicr, when asked hcnv he liad foiuni time b) tiansl.ilc the Ililk-, 
said, " I do a Uttle every day." 

Would we rear some noble structure 

That shall conquer time for aye, 
We must learn the earnest lesson, 

" Do a little every day." 

Love of ease and sloth are ever 

Tempting us to stop and sta\' : 
We must scorn their arts, aiul hra\'e]y 

" Do a little e\'ei-\- daw" 



22 " Selection of Poems. 

Though the guerdon of our labor 
Still may seem so far away, 

Yet, with valiant hearts and hopeful 
" Do a little every day." 

If this law shall rule our conduct, 
We shall find the best of pay ; 

All the world will own our wisdom- 
" Do a little every day." 



rO A BIRD. 

When maiden daisies deck the ground 
And violets in the lanes are found ; 
When warmer suns in heaven glow 
And blander winds o'er meadows blow — 
Thou comest, sweet bird ! at that blest time. 
To glad with songs our Northern clime. 

How mellow is each warbled note 
That gushes from thy mottled throat, 
Such harmony is seldom heard 
As here thou givest, happy bird ! 
For, listening with a pleased surprise, 
This forest seems a Paradise. 

Such happy songs tell of a land 

By gentle zephyrs ever fanned ; 

Where summer reigns throughout the year. 

And raging tempests come not near : 

When wild winds strip the woods again, 

Mav thou and 1 that luicn gain. 



Selection of Poems. 
. SONG. 

If ever eye of day did see 

The violet from the dark earth peep 

After the winter's broken sleep, 
Then, sweet ! I have seen thee! 

If ever heart of rose did feel 

The kiss by loitering breeze bestowed — 
Then I have feared, and thrilled, and glowed 

To bliss thy wooing must unseal. 

If ever chord of lyre did thrill 

Beneath its willful tyrant's touch — 
Deep thrilling, deathless, and so much — 

Then must my soul with passion fill. 

Of Heaven clear-imaged in its breast 
If e'er the sea dreamed untold dreams, 
Then have thy mind's celestial beams 

Calmed my once raging breast ! 



BABY BERTHA. 

She's two years old this very day, 
Wee Bertha of our bower, 

Soft as a bursting bud in May, 
Fair as an opening flower. 

Her fragrant mouth in odor vies 
With breath of eastern groves, 

The sparkling of her ec bhie c \ e 
More e'cntle than the d(ne's. 



^/ S .'lection of Poems. 

The purest drop of early dew- 
To her heart's love inust yield — 

Her heart is Heaven to human view- 
As clearly thus revealed. 

A little angel given to us 
To draw our souls to God ; 

To make our being beauteous, 
And glorify earth's sod. 

Could all the jewels in the mines 

All beams unite in one, 
Yet our wee babe far brighter shines, 

Eclipsing moon or sun. 



A FAREWELL. 

DeaV love ! good-bye, a sweet farewell ! 

This hour two hearts must sever; 
Yet blest it is for us to know% 

We do not part forever. 

The joys that filled each passing day 
And hailed each coming morrow, 

Are o'er at last — yet thought will bring 
A balm to soothe our sorrow. 

The w^ords we breathed, the songs we sang 
Your fond smiles on me beaming, 

I must forego — yet they'll be mine 
In spells of blissful dreaming. 



Ssurdon of Poems. 25 

O, while to sweets of by-gone hours 

Our faithful hearts are beating, 
Dear Hope will paint a happier day 

When two tried hearts are meeting : 

When all the smiles that blessed us late 

The sun himself adorning, 
Shall beam with brighter radiancy 

And make eternal morning. 



HER PICTURE. 

Here her loved picture lies, 

It feels a lover's kiss — 
What are the rose's form or dyes, 
Or rainbow, spanning dream-like skies, 

To charms I meet in this ? 

Was Helen's face more fair 

Than this I gaze upon ? 
Hardly, thaugh God-like Homer sings 
Till time with Helen's praises rings, 

Round and around the sun. 

Heaven-like and starry sweet, 

A shadow of surprise 
As if her scared, angelic feet 
For the first time the soil now meet, 

Is dimming her sweet eyes. 

Ah ! she may not be mine, 

And yet 'tis joy to me. 
To view these beauties shine. 
Which make my thoughts divihe 

And brighten memory. 



26 Selection of Poems. 

Her picture's grace illumes 

A mind to gloom too prone, 
As guarded flowers bloom 
And scatter sweet perfume 

Where winter's spell is thrown. 



SONG. 

Darling, was my bliss a dream 

For I dreamed your love was mine, 
And I saw the future beam 

With a radiant hue divine. 
Darling, was that radiance true ? 

To my anxious plea relent ; 
Hasten, ere my spirit rue, 

Give my bosom full content. ' 

Hear me, if 'twas all a dream 

And reality shall veil 
Every radiant, blessed beam 

That for me did then avail, 
Then no more to me, alas ! 

Life shall know that dream's dear light 
All the glory that then was 

Shall be lost in utter night. 



Selection of Poems. i 

SONNET. 

Long time I marvelled why God took away 

My dearest treasure from my loving arms, — 

Ah ! how much lovleier in departing charms, — 
Long time I moaned and wept both night and day — 
The keen shaft rankling in my bosom lay. 

" Why," I complained, " should she whom iirst I loved, 

Whose supernatural excellence I proved. 
Be snatched in all her flowery youth so gay ? " 

Forgive me, Lord ! That I so long was blind 
Deeming the stroke severe that slew us twain ; 

For now I see it was past thinking kind — 
We from that day a blooming pair remain — 

Time lost his power when her soul sped above 

And Life became omnipotent as Love. 



THE HOUSE UPON THE SAND. 

I see a dome resplendent 
With many a lighted hall, 

With lamps and ruddy cressets, 
For 'tis a festival. 

The lords of earth are gathered 
Around a glittering board, 

The host, with fitting favor. 

Brings forth his daintiest hoard. 

High music, gay and joyous, 
The perfumed air intones, 

No note,- in all its gamut, 
The: ills of time bemoans. 



SCiCCfioil of J\)CI/!S. 

And forms of peerless beauty 
Move to its measures meet, 

i\nd glance on gallant lovers 
Their eyes divinely sweet. 

But hark ! what crash so dreadful 

Carc.cring from afar, 
Breaks o'er that dulcet music? 

The signal gun of war ? 

The haughty monarchs tremble. 

The host it doth appall, 
The white and breathless gallants 

Desert the banquet hall. 

The tempest, dark and ominous, 
At length the palace rocks, 

It huge and massive pillars 
The festive storm-king mocks. 

Then with a shout more lusty 
He bears it to the earth, 

And leaves all dead or dying. 
Then passeth onward forth. 

O host, O kings, O revellers ! 

How thought ye it could stand. 
The palace great and glorious 

Was built upon the sand ! 



Schrfioii of Forms. 2g 

THE HOUSE UPON A ROCK. 

But sec another palace, 

'Tis lighted brilHantly, 
And at a banquet feasting 

A royal company. 

Near, unseen choirs symphonious 

Exalt the rare delights, 
While converse frank and courteous 

h'.ach timid guest invites. 

But one Guest stays, the richest 

Of kings who'll gather here; 
All rise, most lowly bending 

His rank supreme revere. 

The noble knights and ladies 

Grow silent, while his lips 
Speak words whose wondrous beauty 

I'^arth's eloquence eclipse. 

Nor less the royal revel 

Now when the thunder's peal, 
And pitch}' clouds convolving 

A tempest dire reveal. 

It smites the lighted palace — 

This doth not heed its shock — 
All sit and smile — for wisdom 

Did set it on a rock. 



Selection of Poems. 

SONG. 

O, had I known thy heart was mine 

In those fair happy years, 
When Hope shed round us ra\'s divine, 

Unknown the source of tears — 
How different then had been our fate ; 

Not cheerless all as now 
Forever, ever desolate, 

But joy had blessed each brow. 

In autumn is the aftermath, 

At eve a beauteous glow,. 
And fortune this one favor hath 

To pay our nameless woe — 
To prize our later raptures more 

Than had we earlier known, 
And learn to hoard the priceless store 

Of pleasures still our own. 



THE HARE AXD THE TORTOISE. 

The hare and tortoise, annals sa)'. 

Agreed upon a certain day, 

To run a race and make it plain 

Which first the appointed goal could gain. 

So now when all was ready found. 

The giddy hare away did bound ; 

The bird might scarcely move more .swift 

That ligh.t, elastic pinions lift — ■ 

And far behind she scornful saw,-— - 

Retarded by a natural law, — 

Her slothful rival toiling on, 



Selection of PoeJNS. 

As if his strength were almost gone— 

And quite persuaded she must win 

The race, she idl)- did begin 

To think on rest and pleasing sleep 

In way-side bed so soft and deep: 

So slept, but when at length she woke 

A queer surprise her aspect spoke : 

Her sluggish rival had passed b)- 

The spot where lately she did lie — 

Passed all the ground, had won the race. 

And she was now in sad disgrace. 

Now, children, heed this legend well 

And let its lesson in you dwell — 

Best native parts by ease shall fiiil 

While feebler powers through use prevail : 

So, tilled, poor lands do more fruits yield 

Than man}' a richer undressed field. 



Jl APPIER DAYS. 

In dreams of happier, by-gone days. 
More lovely things my eyes can see ; 

Forgive me, that bright past I praisd. 
More than the present 'tis to me. 

A youthful lady brightly gleams 
Upon my sight, with beauty rare, 

And smiles that flash like vernal stream.-- 
With ros\' mouth aivj dark eyc^ fair. 



Sc/cctipii of Poems. 

On her smooth cheeks the roses blush 
A red Hke morning's deepest hue, 

When all the east the full beams flush, 
As if morn's blood had stained the blue : 

A person whose unconscious grace 

In motion or in rest, is seen. 
Where love has left each heavenly trace, 

And poured round all his matchless sheen : 

Thoughts more unstained than springs that run 
From mountain rock in beds of light ; 

Or even than beams of distant sun. 

New come from their unmeasured flight :' 

High sentiments of God-like kind, 

Still bent to raise a fallen race. 
Deep feeling fresh, and taste refined, 

Adorned With ever\' mental grace : 

A shining link of golden chain. 

Of house-love and sacred kin ; 
It were a cure for human pain, 

To see the little heaven within : 

A father on whose whitening head 

Sits unbought honor's coronet, 
In whose pure life, of virtue bred, 

The patriot and the sage are met : 

A mother whose unsullied soul 

Reflects the overarching skies; 
Whom perfect sympathies control. 

Whose walk is calm, and true, and wise : 

Brothers and sisters such as spring 

From parents o'i exalted worth. 
Angels as yet without their wing. 

The pride and glory of the earth. 



Selection of Poi'Dis. JJ 

A home and hourly contact blest 

With nature in her lofty moods, 
With craggy peak and piny-crest, 

Falls, caverns, groves, and olden woods. 

In dreams of happier, by-gone days. 
All these, and more, my soul doth see ; 

Forgive me, that bright past I praise, 
More than the present 'tis to me. 



TO AN UNKNOWN BIRD. 

O bird, thy gushing songs 
Enchant my listening ear ; 

What name to thee belongs, 
I ask not — I but hear ! 

Who taught thy little throat 
Such wondrous harmony 

Whose liquid echoes float 
O'er field and flowery lea ? 

Ah ! we were weak and vain. 
Unless thy art we knew 

To voice that life again 

That from our source we drew, 

Let us be joyous then 

Where all is light and love ; 

He loveth and Me heareth us 
Who dwells in bliss above. 



Jyit Selection of Poems. 

SONG . 

We have met once more 

Who've been parted long — 
Sorrow's reign is o'er, 

Joy inspires my song. 
Tender violet eyes 

Fondly gaze in mine — 
Sweetest thoughts arise 

While I watch them shine. 

On the sea by day, 

Through the dimmer night 
O'er me shone their ray 

Star-like, pure and bright. 
Now they greet my sight. 

Home on native shore ! 
Oh ! I bless their light, 

We shall part no more ! 



TO 



I saw thee, and thou wast so fair 

Of feature and of soul, 
That love that never to its care 

My free thoughts might control, 

My yielding powers then o'ercame- 
Now day and night my sighs 

Born of a fierce consuming flame, 
At every moment rise. 



r Selection of Poems. Jj 

In vain I .stru<^gle to regain 

My former lightsome mirth ; 
I sing, but 'tis no gladsome strain, 

Though spring bedecks the earth. 

No other's charms avail to chase 

This deep and settled gloom ; 
Lost are the charms of nature's face, 

Where not a flower can bloom. 

O, what can make me blest, I cry — 

My former [pleasures prove? 
Thy smiles alone — or soon I'll die 

Of unrequited love. 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 

Great Hamilton ! round thy low tomb arises 

A mournful wail that never can be still, 
To curse a heathen code that recognizes 

The right a brother's sacred life to spill. 

Thou towering mind, high leader, more than royal, 

Brave heart, pure soul, and hands unstained through all, 

How many friends and foes to virtue loyal. 

Sank down in blood to earth when thou didst fall ! 

O matchless man I we mourn thee thus departing. 
Thy life dashed out by an untimely fate — 

The flood of tears for thee forever starting 
Do make our souls the savacre duel hate. 



J<5 Schrtuvi of Poems. 

DO YOU REMEMBER STILL, MY LOVE. 

Do you remember still, my love, 

That humble cottage home, 
Where we two dwelt before we crossed. 

Sad fate ! the ocean's foam ? 
Loved objects round us gave delight. 

The skies were bright above ; 
Oh ! our dear home beside the lake 

We both remember, love. 

We crossed the seas, and severed soon 

Each found a distant home ; 
And pleased with new delightful cares. 

Again we would not roam. 
Yet, oft our thought on rapid wing 

To girlhood's home doth fly, 
And in that cottage by the lake 

We're clasping, you and I. 

We love this fair green forest land ; 

With life and liberty 
And friends, and love, whose truth we've learnt, 

We're blest as blest can be. 
Yet oft we sigh for girlhood's home, 

The cottage by the lake ; 
And e'en amid our bliss we shed 

The tear for its dear sake. 



- TLIE FLAG OF OUR FATHERS. 

Unfurl our flag to the breezes, 

Flag of a Saxon race. 
Just as our fathers gave it. 

Every star in its place ! 



Schr/iou of Poems. jy 

Nobly those fathers struggled, 

Long did they fight and bleed ; 
And, waving on in triumph, 

All from the yoke it freed. 

Again it angrily reddened. 

Floated high o'er land and wave ; 
English decks with gore ran crimson. 

Sank in a watery grave. 

It gleamed on the Rio Grande, 

It shone o'er the Aztec's dome, 
Then turned from its easy conquest. 

Hailed by its friends at home. 

Brothers at home assailed it, 

Brothers to phrenzy raised ; 
Darker the night around it. 

Brighter its splendors blazed. 

Through many fierce conflicts those heroes 

To glorious victory it led, — 
Then drooping, and tarnished, and tattered 

Covered together the dead ! 

Palzied be arm that would rend it, 

Aught of its glories efface ; 
But as our sires unfurled it, 

Every star in its place : 

Fling it for aye to the breezes, 

In storm or in sun sublime. 
Emblem of Power and Freedom, 

Proudest of all in time ! 



j8 Sc/irtio?i of Pocius. 

THE FLO WRRS. 

I often think of flowers that bloom o'er all the gladdened earth, 
And deem w.c never trul}' prize their pure and precious worth. 
How beautiful their perfect forms, begemmed with crystal dew; 
How delicate their varied tints, what fragrance they renew ! 
The rose is queen of all the train that wait on regal spring, 
Yet e'en the humblest one of all a service dear doth bring. 
And when I paint imperial state, I know that Jesus said 
These flowers outshine the richest king that e'er wore crown 

on head. 
And \vhat is nature but a book still oped beneath our eyes. 
To teach us what that glory is which never fades or dies ? 
Yes ! the fair flowers are blooming still our toilsome path to 

cheer. 
And ofttimes I almost believe that Heaven beginneth here. 
Oh, Heavenly Love, that decks for aye with floral stars the sod, 
.Still telling us in their sweet speech how dear we are to God! 



THli WRIiX. 

When cooler autumn days have come 
And sunmier's choirs have sped 

To other climes of sun and bloom, 
And left me grief instead ; 

Thou, little wren ! remainest here 
And ofttimes from thy throat. 

When skies are hid and all is drear, 
Thou trill'st thy loud, glad note ! 

O humble, constant little friend! 

Stay ever near my home. 
And with full choirs thy music blend. 

When spring again shall come. 



Sclci'tiou of PocDis. jg 

SONG . 

Thou wast indeed so beauteous 

I long since learned to love, 
And, like a minion duteous. 

Sweet hope is born with love. 
Yes, hope enchants my spirit 

With visions of delight 
It shall at length inherit, 

When sped is sorrow's night. 

Should heavenly hope deceive me, 

The vision unfulfilled. 
To view the bright hues leave me 

That once my bosom thrilled. 
Would be a deeper sorrow 

Than even death could be ; 
How might I bide a morrow 

That hope nor love should see ? 

No, ere dear hope betrays me. 

To make my heart undone. 
Blest be the hour that lays me 

Where Lethe's rose is won — 
The only star that lightened. 

This low!)' scene withdrawn, 
'Twill never more be brightened 

By joy's irradiant dawn. 



A BROOKLET. 

Darling brooklet, softly flowing 
Up beneath the mountain moss, 

Where the red-white honeysuckles 
Twine their loving arms across ; 



^o Schr/ioji of Poems. 

Now escaping from the ca\'erns 
Where the beam doth ne\er shine, 

Here the sun's transcendent glor\- 
Sheds a radiancy divine. 

Then upon your way you wander 

Through low valleys fresh and green, 

Sunshine warms you, bland airs woo you, 
Flowers in }'ou behold their sheen. . 

Some enchantment holds all nature, 
Music glad but sweet and low. 

From the heart of every creature, 
Tells all raptures that we know. 

Heaven looks down into your bosom 
To behold its beauty there. 

Nothing stains the depth's pure clearness 
All, as heaven, is peaceful, fair : 

Till you reach the great deep ocean 
Where you had your secret birth. 

And your radiant whiteness gives it 
Not one darkening- stain of earth. 



THE ROSE'S DEATH AND RESURRECTION. 

"Ah, me ! " no sad wind sighs 
When summer's blown rose dies — • 
And not a bird bewails 
The saddest of all talcs — ■ 



Selection of Poems. ^i 

How the fair rose doth lie, 
Dark her love-lighted eye, 
Gone her perfumed sweet breath, 
Her pulses still in death — - 
For all the birds have sped 
By heaven-born instinct led — ■■ 
Then why should I be sad ? 
Why should I not be glad, 
To see my rich, blown Rose 
Deep buried 'neath the snows ? 
Since now I know full well 
That death is but a spell 
Of ^ soft and blessed sleep ; 
That when the waters creep 
And slip from icy chain. 
Dear Rose shall laugh again. 
And brighter be, for this — 
An ever bloomins' Bliss ! 



TO 



May every real joy be thine 
That time and sense can yield, 

And every higher bliss divine 
From brighter worlds revealed. 



I could not wish thee more, sweet friend ! 

Were I more eloquent — 
So now this token-verse must q\\(\ 

My earnest heart hath sent. 



42 Selection of Poems. 

MY ROSE. 

This flower among the liills was born, 

'Neath skies of cloudless blue, 
Caressed by airs at eve and morn. 

And fed on light and dew. 
I f(nmd it by the cascade's brink, 

lilooming in beauty wild, 
Lovelier than hyacinth or pink. 

The mountain's fairest child. 

Bewitched by charms so passing fair, 

I bore it to my home, 
Where Boreas rudely rules the air, 

And veils the skies in gloom — 
Ah ! soon my flower began to droop, 

Its beauty to decay ; 
Alas ! the queen of Flora's troop 

Full early passed away. 



AESTIIRTIC BILLY. 

Why pause all the quick, busy people and stare? 

In the street, sirs, pray tell me what's going on there? 

A circus in town, or a runaway horse? 

A dog fight? a murder? in one word, any force 

Operating in every small circle and ring, 

That to persons so busy such cessation can bring ? 

No, nothing like that — but a milder event. 

To be sure, to our feeling.s — whatever was meant. 

Nothing rough, nothing bloody, nothing ill-bred at all 

The attention of persons so hurried to call. 

But 'tis this, sirs, alone, that the painfully sweet. 

Aesthetical Billy's promenading the street, 



Selection of Pocvis. 

His hat, coat, and pants, are peculiar in style — 

Hair and jewels sui generis — while his profile 

Seems longingly thin — nice and measured his walk — 

Too important to notice or treat you \\\t\\ talk. 

Such is Aesthetic Billy, so painfully sweet. 

In the cool of the evening, promenading the street! 

O, beautiful Billy, dear darling, beware — 
We men may endure it — but the soft yielding fair! 
You may place on weak shoulders a burden too sore. 
And one that their lives' sad regret may deplore — 
Don't tempt them to love you — sweet, utterly sweet — 
Then jilt them and kill them — promenading the street! 



2WV COTTAGE HOME. 

My little cottage home, 

Where masses of woodbine, 
About the low white walls, 

With loving arms entwine : 
Where mocking birds sing long 

Through brightening days of spring; 
And love consents to stay 

With softly folded wing. 

I will not envy kings 

Their castles proud and high. 
Where boundless wealth and pomp 

Oppress the dazzled eye : 
I'd only strive to gain 

A fairer home above. 
While in my vine-clad cot 

1; taste the heaven of lo\'0. 



^^ Selection of Poems. 

PRESENT DUTY. 

Shall I lift my being 
Up to higher things ? 

Now must I eschew all 
Slothful lingerings. 

Shall I fitly serve me 
And my fellowmen ? 

I must not defer this 
Till some suited "then." 

What, to mc, is "then," if 
I can never know 

What who owneth treasures 
Willeth to bestow ? 

To the creature's kenning 
But one season's given — 

From the living present 
All the future's riven. 

I account must render 

As it is my day, 
When each trembler hearkens 

What the Judge shall say. 

While the sun shines with us 
Evening, morn, or dawn. 

Clasp each golden life-beam, 
Ere its smile be g-one ! 



Schrtion of Poems. 4j 

CHILD-LAND. 

It is to flee away 

From weariness and care, 
And revel in a day 

Forever calm and fair, 
In childhood's fairy clime 

By streams that glow and gleam, 
Where changing pictures chime 

Through Life's unbroken dream. 

It is to wander there 

A-gaze at Eden flowers ; 
Forgotten old despair. 

To clasp in fruitful bowers. 
To hark the seraphs choir 

Their praise in scented skies — 
True is their hearts' flame-fire 

That burns and never dies. 

O 'tis to be, ne'er dread 

The mortal dart that flies, 
Nor subtile meshes spread 

'Neath pure, all-trusting eyes. 
'Tis thus to grow in love 

As we've in love begun, 
To laud the king above — 

Childhood and Heaven are one ! 



''LOVE ME. " 

" Love uic !'' a pretty bird will sing 
On blooming hawthorn spray ; 

" See what a blessed joy I bring 
To make the summer gay. " 



^6 Sclcctio)i of Poems. 

" Love }nL' .'" a tiny rose-bud says 

Behind its leafy screen ; 
" I yield you costly essences 

Could glad a monarch's mien. " 

" Love mc !'' a trembling star repeats, 

Far in the great, blue sky ; 
" My eye in bliss your own eye greets. 

Where space so deep doth lie. " 

" Love )iic.'" the soul of being craves, 

A round — below — above, — 
" Souls — space — stars — worlds — and ocean-waves- 

All things, were made to love!" 



HILLS OF ORANGE. 

Hills of Orange, green with verdure, 

Dight in summer's gayest pride, 
Where a boy I wandered dreaming 

By fair Rapid Anna's tide. 
Hills of Orange ! oft I clambered 

From your summits to survey 
Rising mountains, vales and meadows, 

Raptured till the close of day. 

Hills of Orange ! mid }^our beauties, 

I'^ancy 'gan to lightly rove. 
There my mind's first powers expanded, 

I first dreamed the dream of love. 
Lovely Orange ! God's best blessings 

Rest on verdant hills and plains ! 
And \-our poet aye Avill sing them 
In his mellow, measured strains. 



Selection of Poems. y/ 

THE OLD HOUSE. 

The house is old, its guests are gone 

Who made its former cheer : 
Hard by the road it hngers on, 

But no one dwelleth here. 
The beggar has forgot its door. 

Though now it alway stands 
And seems to ask a guest once more, 

With open, outstretched hands. 

The moss-grown walls to ruin fall 

In sad and sure decay — 
i\nd ere the spring's gay festival, 

It will have passed away — 
My heart is sinking with it there 

And clings about its walls, 
VoY worn at length by time and care, 

Itself to ruin falls. 



ANNIE LEE. 

Darling Annie Lee, 

Fairest of our flowers, 
Lovliest bud we see 

In life's summer bowers — 
Blue the Heavens above thee, 

Field and stream a-glee — 
Oh ! I can but love thee, 

Fairy Annie Lee. 



4-^ Selection of Poems. 

On the scented meadows, 

By the brooks and rills, 
Through the green wood's shadows, 

Up the airy hills ; 
Chasing winged beauties, 

Bird and butterfly — 
Doing pleasure's duties, 

Till the day's gone by. 

When the peaceful even 

Gives a sober hue 
To the earth and heaven — 

With the falling dew 
Now my tired darling 

Strays no more apart — 
Seeks, with footsteps weary. 

Mother's waiting heart. 

Angel, with me staying, 

Boon that none can tell, 
Still I'm ever saying 

I love Annie well. 
When Death steals my pleasures, 

Then I'll think of thee. 
Dearest of all treasures. 

Darling Annie Lee. 



TO ALICE. 

Methinks thou'rt like a little violet flower 

That shrinks from view. 
Beneath some wayside hedge, or viny bower, 

With timid eye of blue. 



Selection of Poems. 49 

Methinks thou'rt like a little sparklin^^ rill, 

That glides unseen, 
Giving a fresher verdure to the hill, 

To vales a deeper green. 

Methinks thou'rt like a tiny bird that sings, 

Mid thick green leaves. 
And round its nest such glad strange music flings. 

That nothing near it grieves. 

Methinks thou'rt like a trembling, distant star. 

Unseen by day. 
Lighting, with borrowed glory from afar. 

The pilgrim's nightly way. 

Methinks thou'rt like a beauteous angel-child. 

To whom 'tis given 
To guide the blind, by evil ones beguiled. 

Back into light of rieaven. 



ALBEMARLE. 

Hail, Albemarle ! ye mountains hail ! 

To boyhood's raptured vision, thus 
Appeared mount, hillock, stream and vale, 

A scene more truly beauteous 

Than oft was sung right loyally. 

By richly gifted, honored bard, — 
Alas ! from fitting praise of thee, 

That I bv nature am debarred ! — 



^0 Selection of Poems, 

Placed on some hill and looking thence 
The patriot's eye, well pleased, descries 

Yon noble rising eminence, 

Where thy ancestral patriot lies — 

Great Jefferson, immortal sage ! 

Whose true deserved renown shall grow, 
Till tyrants and their wicked rage 

The long-vexed earth no more shall know. 

A mighty people ever looks 
Upon his sacred resting place; 

And ne'er a base intruder brooks 

Who that proud landmark would efface 

From this thrice consecrated soil, 
And bear his sacred ashes hence — 

Whose ashes' urn, 'gainst force or guile, 
Were Freedom's strong and sure defence ! 

There, the creation of his mind. 

The cherished daughter of his heart, 

Yon noble temple, unconfined — 

Sacred to Learning, Truth and Art : 

To strengthen ever coming hands. 

Which, moved by mighty faith, shall break 

Of Ignorance the fatal bands, 

And make men lowly aims forsake. 

Genius, refinement, manly pride. 

Fair flowers, these here fostered grow ; 

Nor Christian culture hath denied 
All lovelier graces to bestow. 



Selection of Poems. 

Thy social life so brightly touched, 
Becomes the mirror of the land ; 

This fairest crown of men is clutched 
By no rude boor's well furnished hand. 

Not even birth, unaided, gives 

In this to exercise control ; 
The title to this sceptre lives 

In talents, learning and a soul. 

A cultured soil, a noble life, 

Attract the traveler's practiced eye ; 
A land whence poor ambition, strife, 

Wrangling and hate and envy, fly. 

All hail ! ye scenes forever dear ! 

Yes, scenes a Heavenly mind did plan 
Here doth each fitting charm appear, 

To hold a patriot and a man ! 



TO A CAGED BIRD. 

Shut close within thy prison here. 

Sad seems thy fate, O bird ! 
Thou ne'er canst wing the summer air, 

No leaf by thee is stirred. 

With thy loved mates, still free and glad, 

Thou never mayst rejoice ; 
Alas ! thy sweetest songs seem sad, 

But half thy tuneful voice. 



^2 Selection of Poems. 

His heart oppressed in silent \wo2, 

The captive never sings ; 
God's poet we can never know, 

Unless he have his wings ; 

And bear himself through native sky, 
Where with the day he blends, 

And back to earth, his ecstasy, 
In perfect music, sends. 

And here thy weary years, alas ! 

Poor prisoner and drone ! 
Thou must, obscure and wretched, pasi 

Nor ever have thine own. 

Yet, whiles, thou secmcst to forget 

Thy cage's cruel bars ; 
Thou trillest loud one anthem yet 

No minor cadence mars. 

I am like thee — enclosed in clay, 
I mutely mourn my home ; 

Yet, one time, chant a lofty lay, 
A eladder season come. 



THE GOOD SHEPHERD AND HIS SHEEP. 

O short was the day, and the wind it blew cold, 

A shepherd was driving his flock to the fold — 

But one foolish sheep, it had wandered astray — 

To think it could live, through that bleak, howling day! 

The shepherd then told all his sheep one by one 

To learn if the wolf, hungry robber, had none : 

" A hundred at morning, I bounteously fed, 

There should now be a hundred," he thoughtfully said. 



SL-lcctiiVi of Poems. 5J 

While the good shepherd told all his flock, one by one, 
•And they ate from his hand, he knew soon one was gone ; 
" I wished it might stay with its mates near the fold, 
The day is so short and the wind blows so cold." 

The heart of the shepherd was instantly moved, 
And his care for his penned sheep no longer he proved : 
Whiles, he stood, as if pondering what path he should take, 
To secure the lost one, and his hundred to make. 

The shepherd looked out in the blinding snow-storm ; 
He doubled his garments to keep his life warm ; 
He entered the mountain that rose near his fold. 
His love for his lost, made the good man so bold. 

Now soon in the storm he was hidden from view, 

But all paths through that mountain the wise shepherd knew ; 

Though the wolf and the perilous journey appalled, 

He searched all its brakes, and he called and he called. 

Meantime, with a feeble and piteous cry, 

Forlorn and unseen, it had lain down to "die ; 

Rut the good shepherd's ear, it was wondrously good. 

And it caught that weak voice when no other's ear could. 

He hied to the spot, and he stooped o'er it then, 
And he called, as he calls when his sheep he would pen ; 
Rut the sheep knew him not, and it shrank in alarm. 
For it deemed that the wolf now was meaning it harm. 

He placed in his bosom and bore it along, 
His love for his own made the shepherd so strong ; 
And, warmed by his heart, it began to revive, 
And the good man rejoiced when he knew it alive, 



5^ Scicctioit of Poems. 

Oh, short i^T the day, and the wind does blow cold, 
But the true shepherd owneth warm heart and safe fold 
A hundred, Me leads them, He guards them and feeds, 
A hundred, in season, shall answer His needs! 



THE STAG-HUNT. 

The riders called for their fleet steeds. 

Before the break of day ; 
And, when the dew begemmed the meads, 

All mounted and away. 

They rode o'er vale and knoll, until 
The steep ascent they reach — 

The sea-like green the vale doth fill. 
And break on rocky beach. 

A scene of grandeur greets their gaze, 
Deep-thrilling through the soul ; 

And joy in nature's loftier ways 
And pride, their thoughts control. 

But now the winded horn and cr)' 
Of good hounds, glad the ear ; 

The rocks and glens, and caves reply. 
With echoes far and near. 

Onward, away the riders sweep, 

Nor e'er a word is said ; 
The dogs dash up the rugged steep. 

And scoiir the woods ahead. 

The fleet deer bounds o'er rock and crag, 

And speeds as if on wings ; 
The broken hounds begin to lag. 

And lap the wayside springs. 



Siiirtiivi of Poems. 55 



The panting steeds, long ere the noon, 
Are throbbing in the shade ; 

And many a rider there doth swoon, 
Within its shelter laid. 

And not to-day the good deer dies, 
To give his foes their vaunt ; 

A trophy rich, before men's eyes, 
ExLiltingly to flaunt. 

Still the tall stag will browse the tree 
On native mountain heath ; 

And look, a child of liberty. 
Upon the vales beneath. 

And they that wished his life at morn. 
At eve must homeward ride ; 

Of conquest foiled, mute and forlorn. 
Without the mountain's pride. 



A VERNAL MORNING. 

A warmer breath of spring doth move the air, 
And freight with richer fragrance than at first ; 

Over the courts and in each bright parterre. 
The infant leaves and nascent buds have burst ; 

A bluer canopy o'erhangs the town. 

The belfries, and the sloping roofs that gleam, 
The meads and orchards, and the spacious down 

Descending to Rivanna's yellow stream. 



Sc/rc/ioii of Poo/is. 

The joyous songs from njifrhboriiif^ tree and '^[■rove, 
Greet the glad ear ; and all things are as gay, 

As if a hovering angel's wings did move 
Above me, banishing all gloom away. 

As in a dream, I see a perfect face 

Pass by me, in the blessed vernal light ; 

One that is clothed with so exceeding grace, 
I stay, and can but doubt ni)- wak'ing sight. 

O vision beautiful and sent from God — 
And I am lifted toward that source divine 

Wherefrom man grows in grace, till this abode 
Can in the primal day of Eden shine. 



THE SOUTHROX'S LAMENT. 

O, where the pine-tree lifts its cone 

Of e\'er-living green ; 
And where the live-oak's boughs hax'e grown. 

And mosses hang a screen ; 
Where grand magnolias show their flowers 

Of rich and creamy white ; 
Where wonders make the day's bright hours. 

Nor less the moon-lit night : 

Where birds pour ceaseless melody, 

And darkness flies away, 
As if forbid b\' destiny 

In that bright clime to stay; 
Where loving hearts are throbbing warm 

And eyes are melting bright 
As suns, that o'er the landscape form 

Such wonderful delight. 



Siicciioit of J\yaJis. 57 



O, now my spirit wanders there, 

Far, far from these bleak shores : 
That foHage, fruit and frai^rant air 

My severed -heart deplores; 
And mid the dreams that throw at nijjlit 

O'er me their magic spell, 
Those southern scenes ni)- soul delight. 

And there I seem to dwell. 

I'll break the chain that holds mc here 

To every feebler love ; 
I'll seek that calm and cloudless sphere, 

As speeds the swift-winged dove. 
No more I'll leave my sunny land 

That such enchantment proves ; 
No other seas by me '11 be spanned, 

So sad the heart that roves. 



AN JRT/ST'S PICT f RE. 

Thanks for this fond, illusix^e art 
Which shows the features here, 

Beloved by me — in vain, alas ! — 
Through many a rolling year. 

Though passed is ever)' dearer hope 

To view her living face, 
The shade of joy I here may grasp, 

In each artistic trace_i 

The classic brow; the liquid orbs 
Soft-blue like summer's skies; 

The rounded cheeks where reddest rose 
With whitest 1:1)' vies; 



^8 Selection of J^oems. 

The fashioned, perfect chin ; a neck 

Like alabaster — low 
Depend the waving locks of gold, 

O'er shoulders spotless snow : — 

The finely curving, pouting mouth 

Betrays a sweet disdain, 
Yet this half smiles to bid the heart 

It slays, to hope again. 

True thanks — for gazing on these here, 
Some moments I was blest ; 

And dwelling on this one fond joy, 
I sighed not for the rest. 

Perchance, when in a frigid clime, 

Or 'neath a torrid sun, 
Stretched upon fell disease's couch, 

My sands are almost run ; 

With the last sense of earthly joy, 
Thou mayst my bosom thrill ; 

This face will fix my lingering look, 
And lessen life's last ill. 



• A PARODY. 

ever thus, in Freedom's hour, 
I see the people's hopes decay ; 

Their sovereign — but short-lived power 
Scarce last:i beyond " election day." 



Sclirtion of Poems. S9 

They ne'er accouch a statesman small, 

And let him suck the public pap, 
But soon he gets above us all, 

And learns his parent's face to slap. 

They never pet a pretty " fel " 

Who smiles whene'er he passes by, 
But will his friends as quickl)' sell, 

As any who for votes apply. 

Oh ! for the sort of former times 

Whose actions tallied with their speech : 

Not like the rogues who steal our dimes. 
And lie as often as they preach. 



SOME FLOWERS. 

My love sent me a violet ; 

By which she told her youth did let. 

My love seilt me a red rose blown ; 
Then joy unto my heart was known. 

My love sent me a lily white ; 
And she became a saint in light. 

Where weary souls in God repose. 
My lily white will change red rose. 



6o Selecti'o)i of Poems. 

GAIN. 

Still, still she walks with me on earth, — 

How sweet this truth to know ? — 
The beauteous one who loved me well. 

But left me long ago. 
She comes on noiseless, unseen wings, 

From her untrodden sphere, 
To guide my faltering footsteps up, 

Where all things are made clear. 

Sweet odors born in that far clime, 

Delight my earthly sense ; 
She bears them in her loving hands, 

With fond devotion, thence. 
It is her sweetest privilege 

To bring their balm to me, 
To charm my soul, and lead me up 

Where all things I shall see. 

Dark was the hour when she went forth 

Into the gloom alone ; 
I knew not then what radiance deep 

Around her pathway shone. 
And soon her pure, enfranchised soul 

Came to her own again. 
And what had seemed my sorest loss 

I knew my greatest gain. 

She loved me in her fleshly bonds. 
And now all pure and free. 

She's more my own, now she bestows 
Far richer gifts, on me. 

Her unseen, angel mini.stry 
Begins my heaven on earth — • 
" Come love ! " I hear, when all is still — - 

" To joys of richer worth ! " 



Sc/irtion of Poliiis. 6 1 

A CROSri C. 

Some years illumed by orient beams, 

Have passed with thee — how treasured now ! — 

All life has seemed but beauteous dreams — 

Yet looking on thy young fair brow. 

Born in my soul a wish I see 

Forever thus to live with thee. 

Sad woe be absent and undreamed ! 

Nor fear control the hope that gleamed, 

That our last time on earth may see 

Love's early raptures thrilling on 

Mid the future's realm unknown; 

Resembling some pure, cave-born stream, 

That wears, mid land and smiling sea. 

As briiiht and calm and blest a beam. 



" SA VE ME OR I PER/SH." 

Ship-wrecked on seas of doubt and pain, 
I prayed to reach firm land again — 
Then from the black engulfing wave 
Thou didst the sinking sinner save. 

Now safe, at billows, death, I smile : 
Nor heed the winds that roar the while: 
Throned on my rock that brows the sea, 
I sing my life and liberty! 



62 Selection of Pocvis. 

A BACHELORS SONG. 

When I remember all 

The girls that I have courted, 
At picnic, fair and ball, 

By letters unreported ! — 
The various styles of girl — 

Tall — short — thick — thin — crooked — dumpy. 
Bought hair, or natural curl — 

And chignons frizzed and stumpy — 
I feel like some that roam 

The populous streets with "nary" — 
If this to you comes home, 

The trope I need not vary. 

When I remember well 

The answer each one gave me, 
Of eager hope the knell — 

In Lethe I would lave me. 
Small notes — French phrase — perfume — 

Returned oft through Post Office — 
Excuse me — I'll resume — 

My throat inclined to cough is. 

Their names, to whom I've 'plained, 
Grace — Nelly — Lou — Kate — Alice — 

To whom these lips have drained, 
So oft the votive chalice — 

But here trips Rosalind — 

Perhaps some skillful fawning — 

That saying, wisely kind, 
" The hour before the dawning !" 



St'lccfio?i of Poems. 6j 

THE PATRIOT. 

The object of the patriot is not fame, 
Tiie common adulation of a name. 
The instinct is divine, which bids him toil, 
Or die for those who press his native soil. 
The aim that merely looks to sordid gain 
The patriot views, with sovereign disdain. 
He is like God, and truly he's renowned. 
More truly than a tyrant triply crowned. 
Death cannot bid him die — for real life 
Is gratitude in happy bosoms rife ! 
Art, beauteous daughter of a sire divine, 
Preserves his semblance in each chiseled linj 
Or telling tint, until the imaged face 
Remains with even more than living grace : 
And, round, eternal monuments ascend, 
Vast vo'Jve structures, to a country's Friend. 
Who would not live that glory to attain ? 
Who to secure, would not endure the pain 
Of self-denial and self-sacrifice. 
Yea, all the evils that from duty rise ? 



AN AUTUMN PIECE. 

The wild grape dons a purple flush ; 

The hazel-nuts turn brown ; 
Dwarf-chestnuts open after rain ; 

The apple droppeth down ; 

The golden rods their yellow flowers 

Show in the fallow-field ; 
And, in the wood, the asters arc, 

For Autumn's grace, revealed. 



6 /J. Selection of Poems. 

A calm profound — save that, at times, 
A soft breeze shakes- the grove 

Which whispers a low melody 
And sweet, like grieving love. 

The black crows fly about the farm 
And ceaselessly complain ; 

An unmelodious counterpart 
To sunn^r's choral strain. 

I gaze upon the fading fields 
And on the dimmer sky ; 

And to the season's touching power 
My saddened thoughts reply. 

My fancy hears the coming blast 
That heralds winter's sway ; 

And makes the glory of the year 
The sullen despot's prey. 



AN UNKNOWN SINGER. 

A bird sings in a solitude ; 

His native notes are true and good ; 

His thoughts are sweet, but none doth hear; 

No traveller their spell doth cheer. 

So chanteth once a minstrel lone, 

By the great world unheard, unknown, 

Although his music seems divine, 

And for it myriad hearts repine. 



SclL't'tion of Poems. 

THE WANDERER'S RETURN. 

Once more a wanderer returns 

To view his native spot ; 
And seeks through half-forgotten ways, 

His childhood's well-known cot. 

At length he sees the humble roof 

Rise up amid the oaks ; 
Its chimney, from the kindled fire 

Of winter's evening, smokes. 

Arrived at last, his footsteps feel 
The threshold of the door ; 

The wanderer's secret faithful heart 
With joy is gushing o'er. 

He sees his mother at her hearth, 

His sisters smiling there ; 
He stays, e'en like a stranger now, — 

He leans upon the stair. 

Soon these discover one has come ; 

But dreaming not of him, 
Prepare to house the stranger-guest, 

The evening lustre trim. 

Now he has entered, and he flings 
His strong and manly arms 

About the mother they would shield 
From thousand, thousand harms. 

O happy, happy home ! To-night 

Do angels hover round, 
To learn what pure, deep happiness 

In household ties, is found ! 



66 Selection of Poems. 

MY LIFE. 

My life is like the flower that springs 
At morning on some bright parterre ; 

Whose elegy the evening sings, 
For now it lies all withered there. 

My life is but a risen day, 

Which first I hopefully behold ; 

But ere I count each moving ray, 
The trifling tale is even told. 

My all of time will quick hivj pissed, 
The rapid speed of light or thought ; 
Nor lightning can proceed so fast ; 
Yes , all my mortal works are nought. 

Lord ! teach my foolish heart to know 

To guide my steps into Thy way ; 
F or then 'tis little care below, 
How soon my spirit flies away. 



SONG. 

Thou didst not bid me love thee ; 

The deed alone was mine ; 
Nor did I stay to prove thee — 

At first my heart was thine — 
This heart now thine forever. 

Without the power to rove, — 
Which, till its walls shall sever, 

Must trive thee all its love. 



Sclcciion of Poems. 6y 

Should fame or friends forsake thee, 

One friend will linger nigh ; 
Though sorrows overtake thee, 

Thy wife will never fly. 
Should thousand foes assail thee, 

And thou canst brook them not, 
My truth shall never fail thee, 

I'll share thy bitter lot. 

Oh ! why was love created. 

If not for bliss or woe. 
When two fond creatures mated. 

Along life's pathway go ? 
No — till their pulses numbered. 

Grow still, and throb no more ; 
The eye that ne'er has slumbered, , 

Still wakes, its darling o'er. 



THE JAMES RIVER. 

Let Germans praise their castled Rhine, 
The English laud their Thames, 

Let all the nations boast their streams,— 
We have our noble James. 

His cradle is a happy vale, 

His youth is of the hills, 
His waters, are the purest stream 

That nature e'er distils. 

Long time he seems as bound by spell, 

To linger in that scene ; 
But mighty Blue Ridge opes his gates, 

And the river flows between. 



6S Selection of ]\)ciiis. 

What wild romantic shores ! what vales 
Adorned with fruit and flower ; 

What villas fair! What charming vievys 
Of steeple, roof and tower ! 

Then on the flood what barges float, 
Bearing rich freights, gay groups 

Of men and maids, whose eyes eclipse 
Thy sheen — how fair those troops ! 

Not constant shines this brilliant scene 
Of graceful lights and forms ; 

But oft the troubled waves are rolled 
In darkness and in storms. 

The current, once so calm and pure, 
O'erflows with mud and clay ! 

Dark are the depths that glassed erewhile 
The azure skies of May. 

The waves that lately murmured bliss, 
Discordant, shock the ear — 

The barges bright with lovely forms. 
No longer there appear. 

O river ! thou an emblem art 

Of our departing life ! 
Our birth, our youth's romantic joys. 

Our manhood's turbid strife ! 

And as thou'rt lost unto my view, 

Not late, within the sea. 
Our strangely chequered life is merged 

In vast eternity. 

Thus, on thy banks my simple song 
Beguiled the passing hours ; 

My silent harp I now resign, 
I leave thy shady bowers. 



Sclirtion of Poems. 6g 

But may another bard, inspired 

Arise, and malce thee Fame's — 
May all the streams of all the lands 

Yield to our noble James ! 



A COTTAGE HOME. 

I love the tiny cottage 

lunbowered upon the hill ; 
Where'er I toil and wander, 

I think upon it still. 
It is a humble dwelling, 

But flowers bloom round its door 
Within, to me is counted 

Of joys a precious store. 

A wife, and three small children. 

Two daughters and a boy, 
Each morn and even filling 

Two wedded hearts with joy. 
So eagerly they clamber 

Upon my knees, and say 
Things simple, yet oft wisest, 

In childhood's artless way. 

The mother culls them lessons 

From life's dear open Book ; 
Impresses its true wisdom 

With loving tone and look. 
All pour our meek petitions 

In God's accepting ear ; 
Rich blessings soon descending, 

Hioh Heaven now seems near, 



yo Selection of Poems. 

I love the humble cottage, 

No king more blest than I ; 
For it reflects the love-light 

That beams down from the sky. 
Where'er I toil and wander, 

I love it more and more, 
My yet remaining Eden, . 

Of joys the richest store. 



CHILDHOOD'S HAPPY SCENE. 

Childhood's happy scenes appear 

Oft when I am dreaming ; 
Fancy makes the picture dear. 

Like the real seeming. 

I behold the cot so small 

By the wimpling river ; 
I can hear the waterfall 

Making music ever. 

I embrace my sisters three 

On the hill-side playing, 
Swinging from the great oak-tree, 

O'er sunny meadows straying. 

My child-heart all glad and free, 

Pleasure is unending ; 
Warbling bird and humming bee 

In my joyance blending. 

In her cottage mother sings 

At her daily duty ; 
Links all thoughts the daylight brings, 

In a chain of beauty. 



Sc/irfion of Poems. yi 

Father sees us where we stand, 

Quick we run to meet him ; 
And we catch and hold his hand , 

And with kisses greet him. 

Childhood's happy scenes abide, 

Through all changes coming ; 
There, in fair immortal pride, 

Eden's flowers are bloomingf. 



CHARL TTES J ILLE. 

O Charlottesville ! thy sister cities wake 

From an enchanter's spell that held them fast 
Round in the slumberous kingdom of the Past — ■ 

Their fetters broken, joyful they forsake 

Their dungeon, and the giant's wand they break. 
Come back into the living world they ask 
Space bravely to begin a fruitful task ; 

And so themselves amends for losses make. 

Hill-throned Charlottesville ! seat favored more. 
Than many older famous ones, by Fate — 

Dost thou not see fair Freedom hover o'er 

Thy mount and vicinage : she calls, though late, 

Thee too, to burst the bondage that all bore, 
And press to glorious life, with soyl elate ! 



7"? Sc/cctiou of Poems. 

THE LABORERS SATURDAY EVENING. 

Gather the tools, and put them, 
In vvorkman-hke order, away ; 

For the friendly hours are closing; 
The drowsy hds of day. 

Six days of toil are ended ; 

Their rounds of duty done 
In shops, and field, and cottage, 

A Sabbath's rest is won. 

With footsteps slow and heavy, 

But with hearts that lightly bound, 

We turn to seek our firesides 

Where loved ones cluster round. 

And the evening's hush is broken 

By voices, glad and sweet ; 
For the forms we love are watching, 

And they hear our coming feet. 

We pass through the humble gateway, 

And enter the open door ; 
And our darlings greet us and clasp us, 

And kiss us o'er and o'er. 

Ah, yes ! our lots are lowly, 
Apart from the ways of pride ; 

But a heavenly blessing visits 
Our h'omes at evjn-tide. 

We sit and view our children, 
And think of the honest name 

We make them, and know 'tis better 
Than ill-got wealth and fame. 



Sc/ccfiou of PociiiS. 7? 

Wc cluster around the altar ; 

Our prayers and praise are sped ; 
And the laborer's rest is sweeter 

Than kings' on their eider bed. 

Honor the hands that labor ! 

They are dear to man and God, 
Who, once disguised in manhood. 

With the meek and -lowly trod. 



BEXNIE. 

Little l^ennie suffered — ■ 

But he's resting now, 
Where the tree of life waves 

Its immortal bough — 
Seraphs bending o'er him 

Kiss his infant brow. 

We shall miss our baby 
In our darkened home ; 

But from God's bright glory, 
Through yon azure dome. 

He will fly to glad us. 

When our tears have come. 

When our task is finished 

In this vale of woe, 
We shall have our wings, and 

We'll with darling go, 
To that home where parting 

Anguished breasts ne'er know 



y^ Selection of Poems. 

MY SUNNY, NATIVE LAND. 

My native land, where the tall pine waves 

Its crest of living green, 
The live-oak grows and spreads its boughs, 

And shades the waters' sheen : 
Where the dogwood opes its early flower. 

And creeps the young, lush vine — 
Oh ! my breast swells high whene'er I think 

That sunny land is mine. 

The summer there reigns bright and long, 

The skies serenely blue, 
And the streams that sleep so deep, reflect 

That sky's unaltered hue — 
Bright birds, of wondrous kind, attune 

Their notes of melod}' — 
The while magnolias scent the grove 

With Eden's fragrancy. 

Enchained by ice and frost, I long 

Again that land to see, 
While Fancy paints, with magic brush, 

The pine and live-oak tree. 
The creeping vine, the bright, rare bird, 

And scented breezes bland. 
And my heart is light, as I greet in dreams 

My native, sunny land. 

I'll break my chains, I'll flee again, 

As the bird when winter comes, 
To the pine and oak, and young lush vine, 

And the sweet magnolia-blooms. 
I will leave no more my native spot, 

And the cherished, household band ; 
I will sleep at last 'neath the oak and pine. 

In my sunny, nati\e land. 



Selection of Poems. y^ 

A WISH. 

I would some fond heart loved me ; 

I think this o'er and o'er; 
I would not li\'e unmated, 

And miss that priceless store 
Of joys that bloom for wedded 

And happy spirits here, 
Till, earth seems scarce less radiant, 

Than }'on supernal sphere. 

I've seen dear comrades happy, 

But I, alas ! ne'er knew 
The bliss bestowed upon them 

By tender wife and true : 
The deep and thrillliii;" happiness 

Of infant children's lo\'e. 
The warmth of whose affection 

The coldest heart could move. 

Yes, would that some fair spirit 

Congenial, true, like thine. 
Might come and chase the darkness 

That overshadows mine. 
Oh ! mayst thou early bless me. 

And banish all m}' care. 
And never, ne\'er leave me ! — - 

This is my ardent prayer. 



THE LAND I SEEK. 

The mountains of delight burst on ni)- view; 

They wear the brightness of immortal green ; 

I mark the valleys that outstretch between, 
And the clear streams that thread the meadows through. 



y6 Selection of Poems. 

Amid that wondrous and immeasurable scene, 
Reared on its most exalted summit stands 
That temple not constructed with weak hands, 

Where God through ages with his own has been. 

Near, and below that fragrant mountain's crest, 
Embosomed in the shade of living trees 
Whose leaves are trembling in the heavenly breeze, 

I spy the tents and gardens of the blest. 

Although so far, I hear the choral song 

Than all the waves of stormy seas more deep, 
Than love more sweet, along the bright plains sweep, 

And all these praises unto One belong. 

land, O home ! for which my heart makes moan. 
Sweet realm of endless joy and perfect rest. 
The dearest hope that animates this breast — 

1 leave all others, fly to thee alone. 

Why should I dread the swelling waves that cross 
The highway leading upward to that land ? 
My king holds out His all-sufficient hand, 

And here indeed I shall sustain no loss. 

Welcome the hour I pass beyond them then, 
Oh ! entered there with that blest throng above, 
Forevermore triumphant by His love, 

I shall not leave the land I seek, again. 



Silcctioii of Poems. 77 

TO THE AMERICAN MOCKLNG-BIRD. 

I see thee, gentle mocking-bird ! 

Near by me here alight ; 
My heart to view thee near, is stirred 

To wondrous deep delight. 

In boyhood I did love thee so. 

Thy form and hues I knew ; 
Thy gushing music's various flow, 

Well-learnt, yet ever new. 

And listening to thy songs e'en now, 

I seem a boy again, 
With happy heart and careless brow 

Still roaming hill and plain. 

O mocking-bird, thou warbler best, 

Of all in summer bower ; 
Thou lightenest my burdened breast, 

By music's strange, sweet power. 



TO 



O lady fair ! I sweep the lyre, 

Its quivering chords, to thee once more ; 
My bosom owns its wonted fire ; 

I sing thee proudly as of yore. 
The passion that we earliest feel, 

Survives the longest in its day; 
Nor, even when Death's dark shadows steal, 

The deep-set seal has passed away. 



y8 Selection of Poems. 

That past dear time. I mind it well, 

And paint it in my vision now ; 
When young I felt thy beauty's spell, 

And breathed love's softly whispered vow 
Then, lingering near thee, I forgot 

Each fleeting care and passing fear ; 
Nor envied I their blessed lot, 

Who dwell within a happier sphere. 

The years that since have flown o'er thee, 

Show of their envy scarce a trace ; 
Still peerless seems, at least to me. 

Thy loveliness of form and face. 
Time has enriched thy generous store 

Of charms to which each knee must bow, 
Even as the rose delights us more 

In its expanding, richer glow. 

Nor e'er in realms of poesy. 

Or in the kingdom blest of dreams, 
Have I beheld thy symmetry 

Of mind, that on thy fair face beams — 
Nor heard, nor dreamed such melody. 

As breathes thy lip in strains of song — 
Scarce deem I brighter things can be, 

Amid heaven's blest, celestial throng. 

Yes, I who threaded regal scene. 

And gazed on many a queenly brow ; 
And saw their jewels' dazzling sheen 

Vie with the noon's unclouded glow — 
No ; none deserved my highest praise. 

Nor warned me with a deathless beam. 
Like thee who now awak'st my lays. 

And reign'st within my soul supreme. 



Sc/i'clion of Poems. /<; 

Henceforth I ask no kinder fate 

Than here to hve and die with thee — 
Then, come Hfe's last hour, soon or late, 

Death shall be welcome unto me. 
By thee thus closed the spring of tears, 

From youth to life's appointed end, 
I shall be happy, in bright spheres, 

If there my heart with thine shall blend. 



I LOVE THEE Fy EST. 

I love the spring, the rainbow's hues, 

The sunset painting thrones in air, 
The regal splendors of the night, 

The beams of morning fresh and rare 
The broad oaks waving darkly green. 

The glad wilei birds that warble there. 
The bright blue sky that laughs above 

The world that seems as Eden fair — 
I love thcc best. 



I love the bright and dimpled waves 

That meet antl kiss the pebbly shore. 
Those calm blue depths that never hear 

The storms that sweep their surface o'er; 
The pearls that gleam beneath those waves. 

The gems that beauty's eyes adore. 
The wrecks of pride that strew their beds, 

The sea-king's eyes alone explore — 
I love tlicc best. 



8o Selection of Poems. 

I love each manly, God-like aim, 

Each lofty speech, or cheering song, 
Each chime sublime, whose harmonies 

To glory, or to Heaven, belong. 
Each dream of beauty Art hath won, 

To live enshrined in memory long ; — 
Ah ! I have bowed beneath their power 

With feeling deep and true and strong ; — 
I loved tliee best. 

I love all objects here below 

From which the light of beauty beams ; 
All flowers that bloom in hall or dells 

By far off and forgotten streams : 
The light that downward from the stars 

On my fair dream-world calmly streams. 
And all the beauteous things that glad 

My spirit in that realm of dreams — 
I love tliee best. 



A FORMER SPRING. 

The brilliance of a former spring- 
Returns for me to-day ; 

The winter's gloom has passed away. 
And nature's brow is gay. 

The birds are singing roundelays 
In limes and poplars high ; 

And every voice, rejoicing comes 
From flood, and earth, and sky. 



Sc'Urtion of Poems. 

I walk with one whose fair young form 

Of perfect lovehness 
Gives gladness to my inmost soul ; 

From eye and brow and tress. 

The beauty of unfoldmg flowers 

In every tint 1 see, 
The sweetest notes of bird and brook 

Her voice's harmony. 

In those sweet orbs of liquid blue. 

I recognize the love 
That lives all stainless in the soul, 

Of serai)him above. 

While these are sweetly downward cast, 

As if to shun my own, 
Still hath their sun-like brilliancy 

Into my deep heart shone. 



8i 



* * * * 



Full many a spring has passed since then 

In poetry and song, 
But none have owned the dream-like light 

That did to that belong. 

Of seasons, I love best the Spring ; 

For this brings back to me 
That lovelier and transcendent day 

Then lighting land and sea. 

I walk with one whose eyes outshine 

The glory of that day : 
In my warmed heart love's rose is born. 
Which never can decay. 



82 Selection of Poems. 

SEVERED. 

Broke is the tie that bound me, 

To thee in years now gone ; 
Bright angel Hope that round me 

So radiantly then shone, 
And Pleasure's dazzling shimmer 

O'er halls of revel shed. 
Are now like lights that glimmer 

Above the vaulted dead. 

Farewell ! since truth has left thee, 

I may not bid thee stay — 
Since sin alas! bereft thee 

Of all that could repay. 
And haste — thy lingering longer. 

Would make my wrath too deep ; 
Haste, ere that wrath be stronger. 

Nor I my vengeance keep. 

Or, to the desert hie thee. 

And deem thus blest thy doom ; 
Or, Fate doth not deny thee 

The cloister's living tomb. 
Fly, lest the tones I breathe thee. 

Pollute the poet's song, 
Whose soul, though slave beneath thee, 

To virtue must belong. 

Go — and may time befriend thee 

And bring thee to repent ; 
And saddened pleasures lend thee. 

Ere all thy years be spent. 
Farewell ! my wound is bleeding, 

And cannot yet forgive ; 
But heaven will hear thy pleading. 

And suffer thee to live. 



Siii'ction of Poems. 8j 

FM SAD FOREVER MO RE. 

I niourn for friendships flctl, alas ! 

As transient as the dew 
That shines at morning" on the grass, 

Then disappears from view. 
For some have ehanged and others paised 

To the etern;il shore ; 
And lonely on a desert cast, 

I'm sad forevermore. 

There once was one \\ho loved me here, 

One, tender, tried, and true ; 
Ikit soon she sought a brighter sphere — 

Alas ! she left me too — 
Then I was doubly lone and sad. 

And nothing could restore 
The charms that once existence had — 

Sad was I evermore. 

I grieve for wasted precious years 

In folly spent, and sin. 
And sing, with unavailing tears, 

Of what " I might have been." 
Not e'en shall live the idle lay 

That lingers on the shore— 
'Tis nought, and soon will pass away — 

I'm sad forevermore. 

Oh, Father ! there must be a place 

Beyond this mortal Icen, 
Where friends long parted may embrace. 

Free from all grief and pain — 
If we in time repentant prove,— 

Waft me, when life is o'er. 
Where satisfied with those I love. 

I shall be sad no more ! 



8:f. Sch'ctiou of Poems. 

THINK OF ME, DEAREST. 

Think of me, dearest ! 

At morn's lovely hour, 
When dewdrops are shining 

On leaflet and flower ; 
When nature is joyous 

With bird and with bee. 
And winds with the waters 

Make sweet melody — 

Think of me, dearest. 

Think of me, dearest ! 

When shadows draw nigh, 
When stars in their glory 

Are lighting the sky ; 
When cool dews are stealing 

To freshen the flower, 
The nightingale singing 

Of love in her bower — 
Think of me, dearest. 

Think of me, dearest ! 

When thou art alone, 
And midnight is reigning 

On high, ebon throne : 
Then think of thy lover. 

Though far he may be ; 
And know that he's thinking 

Still fondly of thee — 

Think of me, dearest. 

Think of me, dearest ! 

Mid pleasure's bright sheen ; 
When revel and joyance 

Have made thee their queen. 
Let thy true spirit wander, 



Sclcctioji of Poems. 85 

From mirth's hollow cheat, 
To find in affection 

A heaven more sweet — 
Think of me, dearest. 

Think of me, dearest, 

'Twere rapture to know 
Thy thoughts were still with me, 

Where'er I may go. 
This earth would be Eden 

Each moment to me. 
If Truth were my angel 

And told me of thee. — 

Think of me, dearest ! 



THE NORTHERNERS HOME. 

Nay. tell me not of tropic climes, 

Of orange groves and fadeless flowers ; 
Of cloudless suns that ever gild, 

With golden light, those Eden bowers : 
I better love the humbler buds 

That in a colder climate bloom ; 
I better love the healthful breeze 

That wanders round my northern home. 

1 sigh not for a spot of earth, 

Not e'en for floweiy Italy ; 
The spicy groves of orient climes, 

Have not a single charm for me ; 
If once compared to scenes I know, 

'Neath Ma.ssachusetts' azure dome. 
To scenes on which my eyes have looked 

From childhood, round my northern home, 



^6 ScUiiiou of Poems. . 

How grand the cloud-capped mountains rise ! 

How lov^cly spreads the landscape round ! 
How silvery gleams the winding stream, 

And lingers in the enchanted bound. 
Far, far o'er all the charming view, 

The poet's eyes, enraptured, roam ; 
And paint as fair within the soul 

The scenes around ni)' northern home. 

But dearer charms than these delight, 

And bind vc^y being with their chain ; 
The memory of my boyhood's hope. 

Its pleasure and its transient pain ! 
Its household tics, its early loves, — 

Sad disappointment blighted some, — 
These form a stronger, dearer tie 

To bind me to \\\\ northern home. 

Oh ! when tlic waves of death shall roll 

Their turbid waters o'er ni}' breast ; 
And a worn, weary man of cares. 

From all life's storms, at length finds rest : 
May the wild winds that soothed his soul. 

When o'er the hilltops he hath come — 
May these resound his funeral dirge 

Who slumbers in his northern home ! 



ScUrtioii of Poems. 8j 

THE NATIVE VILLAGE. 

To the dear little village that sleeps in the vale, 
Witli its spire and the elms I can picture so well, 

My fancy reverts, while the daylight 'gins fail 
O'er the far distant town where an exile I dwell. 

The sweet woodland singers are hushing their songs, 

The murmur of voices low faintly I hear : 
One sweet lamp appears — soon in bright, countless throngs. 

Stars glint in the depth of the dark-azure sphere. 

I spy a neat cottage, far out from the rest. 

And it seems to resemble my father's small home 

In a spot seas away — but I cherish it best, 

Though wayward and lonely mid strangers I roam. 

And I steal from my comrades and pass down the lane, 
And pause at the cottage whose light now appears. 

Till, lingering late, oft turning again, 

I rejoice for the gloom now concealing my tears. 

O dear native village which love thus endears, 

Though far, farther still, must thy wanderer roam, 

Thou art the loved scene of his life's early years. 
And till he return, he can ne'er be at home, 



MY CHILDHOOnS HOME. 

My childhood's home ! how vivid rise 

Its scenes before me now ! 
The house that stands upon the hill, 

The oaks that round it grow : 
The path descending to the spring, 

The little rill below, 
The gleaming pond, the moss-gray mill 

Among the willows low. 



88 Selection of Poems. 

I hear the sound of lazy wheels 

And of the trembling walls, 
Blent with the cadence of the flood 

That downward, foaming, falls, 
And with the deadened speech of men 

Brought on the passing breeze ; 
And think no other sounds of earth 

Could be more dear than these. 

O blossoming fields o'er which I roam, 

Free as the frolic wind ; 
O black-thorn thickets where I press 

The cat-bird's nest to find : 
O hedges where raspberries blush. 

And bees hum all the day— - 
O simple wealth of childhood's heart, 

What could its loss repa}' ! 

What were the gold that Midas made, — 

If that were all ni)- own, — 
What the most haughty majesty 

That e\'er sat on throne; 
What all renown that lix^eth on 

Until the end of time — 
If offered 'gainst the buoyant heart 

Of childhood's early prime ! 

From yon dear loving skies we come, 

Conveyed by angel bands, 
Hymning an anthem heavenly high, 

Through Fden's morning lands. 
To Eden's land we shall return, — 

Oh, ne'er again to roam, — 
But dwell mid light, and love and songs, 

In God's eternal home. 



Selection of Poems. 8g 

ROBERT BURNS. 

Once more how glows my heart to view 

The songs of Robert Iku'ns, 
How from the Present back to him 

Tlie love of boyhood turns ! 

In what distinct and vivid hnes, 

Scotia comes forth to view — 
Crags, rocks, hikes, rivers, rising mists, 

Towns, castles, heather blue. 

And Mary 'neath the hawthorn shade. 

Her plowman at her side — 
With brighter aureole bedecked 

Than royal groom and bride ! 

Ayr kisses all his pel)bly shores 

That kiss his winding tide ; 
The merle and mavis gayly greet 

The vernal morning's pride. 

Maggie with Tam, is sweeping past 

The kirk of Allowa)', 
While witches follow hard behind. 

In scampering, horrid fray. 

The reverend sage repeats the tale 

That man is made to mourn — 
Or high and shrill the pibroch calls 

Of Bruce at Bannockburn. 

To Mary fled to brighter scenes 

How yearns his manly heart, 
And pours his passionate, deathless grief, 

With more than poet's art. 



go Scicctioji of Poems. 

When homely, honest toil is done, 
On Scotland's hallowed sod, 

The Cotter with his guileless flock. 
Bows down to worship God. 

His brethren of the Mystic Tie 

Now hear his fond adieu ! 
Each word is fraught with feeling now, 
" Heart-warm " and deep and true. 

Our nature, God-like and sublime, 
His lofty harp now sounds; 

Responsive to the master-notes 
Each bosom swells and bounds. 

How forcibly each sentence strikes, 

Each observation keen ! 
As from his eminence he looks 

O'er all the mortal scene. 

And what the secret of his power? 

He knew the simple plan. 
To paint the undissembled traits 

Of nature and of man. 

Ye men who seek to move the soul. 
With chisel, brush, or tongue. 

If ye would win the love of men, 
Behold how Burns has sun"! 



■ LITTLE MARY. . 

Little Mary, rustic beauty, 

Bounding, laughing round ni)- wm)', 
That to love you is a duty. 

Now my gladdened heart must say. 



Siicc'fioH of Poems. 

Not a feathered poet trillin<4" 
Carols in the bowers of June, 

Has a voice more rich and thrilHng, 
Or a heart more blithe and boon. 

Not a maiden of the city 

With her studied songs of art, 

Matches the ecstatic ditty 
Gushing from a simple heart. 

Fairy Mary ! happy chancing 
Shows to me your loveliness. 

Shaming all the world's romancing, 
With a dearer joy to bless. 



SONNET. 

To thee hath nature given, with regal hand, 
Form, features, color of no common charm. 
And dead the soul their beauty could not A\'arm ; 

Yet, not untrue or feeble, she hath planned. 

Or, with poor mind a wealth}' person banned ; 

But to those charms that dazzle so the sight, " 

She joined that dearer inward beauty's light, — - 

So that we scarce can deem that true which we have scanned. 
Which fills my soul with more serene delight — 

The loveliness of soul to Heaven allied. 
That overawes by its majestic might. 

Till earthly sense by thee is sanctified : — 

So that beholding thee this dear earth seems, 
Bedecked once in Fden's golden beams, 



()2 Sf/cctioii of P<>ciiis. 

THE RIVANNA. 

Flow on, Rivanna flow forayc 

Throu<^li bloomiiif:;; meadows, frcsli and tender, 
While spring displays her riches gay, 

That suns of warmer radiance lend her; 
For where thy stream bewitch :'d doth stray, 

The brightest, loveliest dream I chcrislied ; 
Though hops so soon, withdrew her ray, 

Its spring-like beauty hath not perished. 

Two glancing eyes of .'nmniest blue, 

Two little hands of lil}' whiteness, 
Rich waving tresses, golden hue. 

And smile like vernal morning's brightness : 
A soul as crystal pure, th}' wave 

At birth no purer in its beauty, 
A heart whose wholesomeness could save, 

Aye loyal both to love and duty ! 

Yes, Hope displa^-ed her radiant light. 
The gilded future gayly showing ; 

Sad truth then hidden from my sight, 
I gazed in ardent transport glowing. 

Mere mid thy scenes, I still pursue 

My way, sweet flowers of memory reaping; 
Still lingers near, the form I knew. 

Her eye smiles on me through its weeping: 
And whispers that beyond the day, 

Beyond all envious eyes' beholding. 
Her love, where none can e'er gainsay, 

Its tender tryst with me is holding. 



Selection of PoiUis. 
RAPID ANNA. 

Rapid Anna, Rapid Anna, 

Flowing swiftly to the sea 
Through thy hills and smiling meadows,- 

I will sing a song of thee. 
Here in happy yonth I wandered. 

Gazing spell-bound on each charm, 
Village, homestead, orchard, vineyard, 

In the mellow sunshine warm. 

And I thought of femous rivers 

Gleaming through far distant lands, 
Yielding precious gems and diamonds, 

Rolling down their golden sands : 
But I loved thee. Rapid Anna ; 

Better far than all of those. 
River that with hasting waters, 

Through my native country flows. 

Manhood followed, far I wandered, 

Far away from thy loved banks ; 
And I saw thy hills no longer 

Rising fair in ordered ranks ; 
Yet my fancy often painted 

Scenes I loved in happier youth ; 
Rural scenes I loved so fondly. 

With fresh childhood's heart of truth. 



93 



Rapid Anna, Rapid Anna, 

Still thou ilowest to the sea ; 
Still beside thy murmuring waters 

Ls the happiest home for me. 
Let me still survey thy beauties, 

Town and homestead, mountains high, 
Hill and meadow, grove and forest, 

'Neath Virginia's bright blue sky. 



p^ Selection of Poeuis. 

•' HOME, SWEET HOME. " 

Oh, " home! sweet home ! " around the world 

The melody is heard ; 
And, by its sweet, pathetic force 

Each human heart is stirred.. 

Its plaintive music sweeter seems 
To those \vho friendless roam ; 

And fast the tears stream doAvn their cheeks. 
When hearing" " home, sweet home." 

If thus our hearts remember still 

A loved terrestrial home, 
Still more they paint that place of rest, 

From which we ne'er shall roam. 



LOVE. 

Sang the red-bird on his spray. 

While the skies were blue above ; 
Sang he all the bright May day, 
" O there's naught so sweet as love." 

Hummed the bee that sucked the sweet 

Of the wildling blossom's heart, — 
Still he would the words repeat, — 
" Sweeter, love, than this thou art." 

Sang the star in outer space, — 

One might hear its silver voice 
Saying, with immortal grace, — 
" Love doth make the stars rejoice! " 

Joined all things in chorus thrilled, 
God, and all that He hath wrought, — 
" See what Love the king hath willed. 
He the one true bliss hath brought." 



Sjur/iof/ of Poiins. ■ p5 

A LETTER OE REPLY. 

Dear Sir : 

Received your courteous note to-clay : 
In it you graciously regret, and say 
That the increasing quantity of verse 
Upon the market's growing to a curse — 
Unless 'twere such as gods will deign to hear, 
With any favorite mortal happening near. 
And you advise I should my own withhold. 
For, though 'tis good you think, I were too bold 
To try the patience of the public yet. 
Oppressed with surfeit, and inclined to fret — 
" You know what wish is mine for your success. 
Which this delay, I'm sure, will ne'er make less." 

A bard, of all the favors heaven doth sefid. 

Should feel most grateful for a prudent friend ; 

Wild, upstart dreamer, and run mad for fame, 

Apt his reward, before the time, to claim ; 

To pluck the fruit not ready yet to fall. 

Through haste to win a portion, losing all — 

For, why rebel against eternal fate, 

Which dooms all men to labor and to wait ? 

You own my verse is good, yet not so good, 

As gods will hear in their sublime abode. 

Therefore my ardent wish I will repress, 

Nor force on burdened minds my idleness. 

'Tis fixed— I'll not begin,— although I grieve, — 

To print my verse without your cautious leave. 

And since they prove not very good, like those ^ 

Your pen indites, when tired of plainer prose; 

Those poems, that you publish, and conceive 

No plea to carping criticism leave — 

I will my thoughts that wandered so, recall ; 

Nor give the tortured public mine at all. 



iwiidie:Ko 



My Home, ... 

Cjraiid father's Oak, 

Childhoud ami Ai^e, 

To tho (JiiL-en uf Niyhl, . 

The Stream, 

The ]>hie-l)ird. 

To a Very Young Lady, . 

Hortatory, 

To Florence, . 

The Old School-house, 

The Storm and the Rainbow, 

Lines, .... 

Nettie (iay, 

" Do a Little Every Day," 

To a Bird, 

Song — If Ever Eye of Day 

Did See, 
Baby 15crtha, 
A Farewell, 
Her Picture, . . 

Song — Darling, Was My iJliss 
a Dream, 

Sonnet, .... 

The House LTjion the Sand, 

The House Upon a Ruck, 

Song — (_)li, Had I Known, 

The PLare and the Tortoise 

Happier Days, 

To An Unknown Bird, 

Song — We Have Met Once 
More, 

To ,• 

Alexander Hamilton, 

Do You Remember Still, My 
Love, 

The Flag of Our Fallicrs, 

The Flowers, . 

The Wren, 

Song — Thou Wast Indeed >o 
Beauteous, . 

A Brooklet, 

The Rose's Death and Resur- 
^rection, 

To , 

My Rose, 

Aesthetic Billy, 

My Cottage Home, 

Bresent Duty, 

Child-land, 

" Love Me," . 

Hills of Orange, 



/'„^v 




Page 


S 


The Old House, . 


47. 


. 6-S 


Annie Lee, 


. 47-48 


. S-io 


To Alice, 


• 48 49 


1 1 


Albemarle, 


■ 49-51 


12 
'3 


To a Caged Bird, . 

The Cood Shephenl and His 


• 51-52 


• M-LS 


Sheep, 


• 52-54 


■ 15 if' 


The Stag Hunt, 


■ • 54-55 


16 


A Vernal Morning, . 


• 55-5^^ 


. T7-iS 


The Southron's Lament, . 


• 5^^-57 


. 18-19 


An Arti.st's Picture, 


■ 57-58 


ly 


A Parody, 


• 58-59 


. 20-21 


.Some Flowers, 


59 


. 21-22 


Gain, .... 


60 


22 


Acro.stic, ... 


61 




" Save Me or I perish," . 


61 


23 


A Bachelor's Song, 


62 


• 23 24 


The Patriot, . 


• 63' 


• 24-25 


An Autumn Piece, 


• 63-64 


. 25-26 


An Unkn(jwn Singer, 


. 64 




The Wanderer's Return, . 


■ 65 


26 


My Life, 


66 


27 


Song — Thou didst not bid 


me 


. 27-2S 


Love Thee, 


. 66-67 


29 


The James River, ". 


. 67-69 


30 


A Cottage Hoiiie, 


. 69-70 


• 30-31 


Chiklhood's Happy Scene, 


70 


• i^-ii 


Charlottesville, 


71 


32) 


The Laborer's SaturdayEven 


ijig, 72-73 




Bennie, .... 


73 


34 


Mv Sunny Native Land, . 


74 


• 34-35 


A Wish, 


75 


35 


The Land I Seek, . 


• 75-76 




To the American Mocking B 


rd, 77 


. 36 


To 


• 77-79 


• 3*^-37 


I Love Thee Best, . 


. 79-Su 


• 3^ 


A Former Spring, . 


. 80-81 


3« 


Severed, 


82 




I'm Sad Forevermore, 


■ 83 


39 


Tliink of Me, Dearest, . 


. 84-85 


■ 39-40 


The Northerner's Home, 


. 85 -S6 




The Native Village, 


■ 87 


• 40 41 


My Childhood's Home, . 


. S7-88 


41 


Robert liurns, 


. 89-90 


42 


Little Mary, . 


. 90-91 


■ 42-43 


.Sonnet, .... 


91 


43 


The Kivanna, . 


92 


44 


Rapid Anna, . 


93 


45 


Home, Sweet Home, 


94 


• -15-46 


1 Love, .... 


94 


aG 


A Letter of Reply, 


95 



Bi 



^l 



